


Take these Broken Wings

by Esperata



Category: The Batman (Cartoon)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Bisexual Edward Nygma, Developing Relationship, Gay Oswald Cobblepot, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:47:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22599571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esperata/pseuds/Esperata
Summary: Riddler has barely escaped the Batman but his trouble might not be over as he runs into another criminal acquaintance. Its a good thing he doesn't a crush on him or anything otherwise things might get awkward.
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma
Comments: 67
Kudos: 152





	1. Chapter 1

The house looked abandoned. Draped in overgrown plants with cracked window panes and utterly dark. Stepping inside, through a rotten wooden door barely hanging on its hinges, Riddler found the interior of the house to be as cold as outside. None of this worried him in the slightest. It had everything he needed right now. Cover from prying eyes and shelter from the rain. If he could find something he could utilise for his injured arm then he’d be perfectly satisfied.

He couldn’t help the frown etching itself into his brow as he stumbled his way from the basement he’d broken into. The pain was far too insistent for even his superior mind to ignore and he cursed the Boy Wonder who’d been the ruination of his plans. The Batman would never have used such a reckless strategy to try and prevent his escape with the ancient Arabian puzzle box. He might have been killed.

While he was aware his arm was badly damaged, he had not as yet examined it. There had been no time during his hastily re-evaluated exit strategy and, to be honest, he was not looking forward to seeing what might have been done to it. So he was focusing on gathering anything useful that he could find before stopping to assess what he would actually need. Then he could adapt what he had rather than spend fruitlessly anxious minutes hunting for things that simply weren’t to be had.

It was awkward with only one functioning arm but he methodically rummaged through the kitchen cupboards for supplies. He was lucky enough to find a seemingly still stocked First Aid kit in one and almost stopped right there before his curiosity got the better of him. While the room felt cold and unused there were oddities that suggested it might not have been that long since someone else had used the place. Tins left behind might have been any age but there was a loaf on one shelf and a wrapped piece of cheese nearby. The thought crossed his mind that perhaps it wasn’t such a safe retreat as he had thought and maybe he should go with what he’d managed to scrounge.

However the surging pains searing up his arm every time he moved it convinced him it would be worth staying long enough to do some limited damage control. With a deep breath to steady himself therefore he sat at the table and carefully laid his arm down. Even before he could pull the sleeve up, it was clear he’d broken it. The smooth line of skin was interrupted by an unpleasant rise where the bone had shifted. Swallowing down his bile he silently thanked whatever spirits were listening that it hadn’t broken through the skin entirely. Still he felt compelled to grab the wine and take a swig.

“What the hell are you doing here?!?”

The voice startled him and he found himself dribbling out a fountain of wine as he automatically gasped. Then he started choking as the rest slipped down the back of his throat. To top it off he then gasped again as the unintentional movement jarred his already painful arm and his body writhed as it unsuccessfully tried to escape the pain.

When he finally came back to himself and focused again he found his accuser had got over his shock and come to stand beside him.

“I might ask you the same question,” he threw back irritably.

“This is my house!” Penguin countered.

That brought Riddler up short. He’d known peripherally of the Cobblepot Mansion but hadn’t really considered it much. Certainly not enough to realise it was naturally Oswald’s property or that it might be a place he would come across in his travels. The recognition that _this_ crumbling heap of bricks was the family home Penguin was so proud of made him suddenly reassess how little was actual pride in his possessions and how much was inherited obligation of aristocracy.

His silence gave Oswald time to do his own assessment. His quick gaze took in the overall state of him and in particular his exposed arm.

“Looks like you were lucky to get away,” he suggested. “I assume you’re satisfied you weren’t followed since you’ve stopped to take stock?”

“They had other concerns to keep them from my tracks.”

A hum met that statement. Riddler would agree the Batman had an annoying and unerring instinct for picking up a chase long after the trail should have gone cold. However he didn’t have much option but to go to ground. It was either that or probably pass out in a ditch somewhere. He wondered briefly if Penguin would insist he leave immediately or whether he could prevail on him to at least let him tend to his wounds before setting out again. The question was answered before he could ask.

“You should let me look at that for you. It’s not easy to tie a bandage with one hand.”

Riddler blinked at the offer, unable immediately to see the angle. Then he realised it was simply Penguin’s most efficient way of getting him out of his hair. Since it would undoubtedly be the better option from his own point of view as well, he quickly nodded.

He took another cautious sip of the wine while Oswald began to prepare what he wanted, getting out the bandage and heading over to fetch a bowl of water. Then he watched attentively as his arm was surprisingly gently cleaned.

“So was whatever you were after tonight worth the effort?”

“No.” Riddler pouted. “I dropped it when the brat broke my arm.” He considered reciting how he was lucky to be alive after falling off the roof himself but kept quiet. Penguin didn’t need to know that part. “I don’t have anything on me to pay you back right now.”

Penguin paused where he was unravelling the roll ready to wrap his arm and glanced up at him.

“I was merely trying to make conversation. I’m sure we can argue over our balance of favours at another time.” Any reply Riddler might make to that was promptly cut off. “This is probably going to hurt.”

Without any further warning, he grabbed Riddler’s arm by the elbow and wrist and pulled it straight. Riddler screamed.

“Told you,” Penguin muttered, albeit now tenderly wrapping the bandage around tightly.

It took a second for Riddler to bite back his initial pained response and remind himself that the actions were both sensible and actually quite considerate given the circumstances. Penguin looked briefly up to him again, obviously assessing the level of resentment his actions had provoked and Ed managed a taut smile to try and convey his understanding. They remained silent while the material whisked quickly round and round, binding his arm so it wouldn’t shift unnecessarily.

Eventually Penguin reached the end of his work and swiftly tore the fabric to enable him to tie it. Riddler watched the unusual fingers as they deftly knotted the ends securely.

“You’re surprisingly dextrous,” he found himself commenting.

Penguin frowned and stepped back to start putting everything away.

“I could say the same for you,” he challenged. “Having twice as many digits.”

The answer threw Riddler momentarily. He’d never considered the situation from that point of view but it did actually make sense to him. To cover his confusion, he lifted his arm and studied the reduced level of pain.

“Thank you,” he offered.

Across from him Penguin was leaning on the table looking speculative. It suddenly occurred to Riddler that he had probably woken the man up. He was enveloped in a thick robe and it reminded Ed how cold he actually was. He was happy to find his shiver now didn’t produce the same shearing pain as before. A deep sigh from his companion drew his attention.

“You might as well stay here,” he suggested. “The last thing I need is the Batman picking you up and tracing you back here.”

He pushed himself from the table and turned to head back, presumably, to bed. Unbalanced by the sudden show of hospitality it took Riddler a moment to realise it was an offer he really shouldn’t turn down. Assuming the Batman had not it fact followed him here, which given the ever increasing time he’d been at liberty seemed probable, then it was by far the safest option to stay put. If Penguin was of a mind to allow him to then he would count himself lucky.

They made their way upstairs in strangely comfortable silence and Riddler meekly followed his host until Penguin pushed open a door for him.

“The room’s cold since I wasn’t expecting guests,” he said not quite apologetically, “but there’s a bed made up so it should do you.”

“It’s a far cry from where I was expecting to sleep,” he countered, thinking of both his own snug hideaway and also the very real prospect of a night on the streets.

“Whatever.” Penguin waved dismissively and staggered away down the corridor. “I’ll see you in the morning. If you’re still here.”

Riddler hesitated a second, watching Penguin disappear into what was doubtless his own bedroom, before entering his own chamber. He wasn’t sure right now what would be the best strategy tomorrow; stay, and deal with whatever mood Penguin awoke in, or risk offending him by leaving without a word of acknowledgement.

But that was a decision for another time. The prospect of a comfortable bed and sleep to distract him from the persistent ache was too enticing. He clambered under the heavy covers, not even bothering to strip, and allowed himself to fully give in to the exhaustion that had been encroaching all evening.


	2. Chapter 2

Stepping back into the kitchen the next morning Riddler was fully prepared to scavenge for food before leaving a note and making his escape. It was early by anyone’s standards, given his broken arm had jolted him awake periodically through the night, and he had somehow assumed Penguin wasn’t a morning type. It was therefore a mild surprise to find the man sitting at the table, once again ensconced in his maroon robe, and nursing a cup of black coffee.

He looked up with a sullen expression as Riddler hesitated in the doorway.

“You’re up early. Did you sleep alright?”

Riddler shrugged cautiously and stepped forward.

“As well as could be expected,” he offered.

There was a brief glance to his wrapped arm before Penguin returned his gaze to his drink.

“There’s instant coffee if you want it. No milk though. Or some tea blends in the cupboard.”

It was as much to avoid the awkward situation that Riddler moved over to examine what was on offer. The indicated cupboard held more varieties of tea than he was expecting and he took his time looking through them. Meanwhile Penguin stood and fetched the bread from the sideboard.

“I’m making toast. Do you want any?”

“Please,” he answered vaguely while selecting a green tea and looking for a cup.

Penguin watched from his position by the grill, seemingly interested in the novelty of someone else’s breakfast preferences.

“Are you drinking that just because it's your signature colour?” he asked.

“No. Green tea is full of antioxidants and is proven to improve brain function.” He threw a withering glance the shorter man’s way. “I’m rather surprised you have it in stock actually.”

The implied insult rolled off Penguin like water off a duck’s back and he shrugged nonchalantly as he turned the bread over to toast the other side.

“I tried lots of teas in my travels in the orient. Got quite a taste for some of them too. But coffee is a much easier drink. It’s hard to screw up diluting grains in boiling water, even when you’re barely awake. The Kabuki twins get quite irritable if I don’t have the tea blend they want to hand though.”

There was a tense pause and Riddler found himself almost holding his breath as he held the teaspoon over the cup ready to retrieve the bag at the best time. He’d forgotten about Penguin’s deadly companions. With a deliberate relaxation of his shoulders he finished preparing his tea before responding.

“Where are they at the moment? Still asleep?”

Now he’d remembered them, it seemed strange they hadn’t accosted him last night. He watched warily as Penguin piled the toast and returned to the table.

“No idea. They stop by occasionally but they like their independence. They’re… friends. And we work together. But I don’t control them.”

He started spreading peanut butter and Riddler decided it was safe enough to sit as well.

“It actually works quite well,” Penguin continued. “They have fun enacting small crimes which raise flags but don’t actually warrant a full on police chase. But it has the benefit of making everyone assume I’m somewhere I’m not.”

“Because everyone thinks you always work together,” Riddler concluded. “And meanwhile you can relax and recoup here, in the last place Batman would think you’d be.”

“Exactly. As long as I ensure my birds don’t travel here en masse then there’s little to direct anyone’s attention here. Give that here.”

The last comment caught Riddler off guard and he looked up from where he’d been awkwardly trying to hold the peanut butter jar steady with his weak arm while getting some out with the other.

“It’s just difficult because it requires a degree of force to extract it. I’ll get it.”

Penguin flexed his hand.

“I know. But the toast will be cold by the time you’ve done that. Let me.”

Riddler only hesitated a second before capitulating to the demand. While he had someone willing to help it only made sense to take advantage of it. As Penguin easily removed some and spread it for him, he picked up their conversation.

“If you want to stay here while that heals some more, it wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing.”

“Oh?”

“Hhm. For one thing it never hurts to have a second person on the alert for danger. I do sort of miss the twins for that when they go gallivanting off.”

Tucking into his toast gave Riddler a minute to think through that proposition. On the one hand, healing from a broken arm was going to cause him problems. A literal helping hand would be useful. On the other, he knew you got nothing for nothing. Penguin was bound to want something. And he suspected it wasn’t merely the pleasure of his company.

“I assume I’ll be expected to pay my way in some manner?”

A thoughtful gaze was leveled at him across the breakfast things.

“You’ll be expected to make yourself useful. Pull your weight where you can. For example, you're smart. You can help me rig up a low tech security system.”

Immediately Riddler’s mind began whirring with familiar security designs. Laser beams or magnetic clasps? Each on its own circuit or linked up? Wireless control or an internal system? How much did Penguin have to spend? And where would they source the parts without drawing attention?

“What sort of system?” he queried.

“Bells.”

“Bells?”

Penguin nodded and gestured over his shoulder to where a series of servant bells hung silent on the wall.

“I just need to work out how to reconnect each room to the windows or doors so it’ll ring when they’re opened.”

“Wouldn’t you prefer something a bit more… technological? I could easily rig up a simple circuit board to flash when the security is breached.”

“And what about when the power goes off? I’m not always here to hack into the electrical grid and when I drop back I don’t always have time. I want something that is _reliable_.”

Even as it went against the grain, Riddler had to concede those were valid points and he nodded slowly. It was after all Oswald’s house and if he wanted a security system made up of ropes and pulleys then who was Riddler to argue?

“I’m sure I can help with that.”

“Right.” Penguin stood, symbolically ending that discussion. “For now though I think we should focus on making you more presentable. I hate to be the one to say it but frankly you need to wash.”

The accusation stung briefly before Riddler glanced down at himself and remembered he was still wearing the clothes he’d fought the Batman in yesterday. There was stains and dirt ground in and tears in places. With a momentarily pang of guilt he realised the bed would probably be similarly dirtied now. He hadn’t even looked in a mirror yet to see what a mess had been made of his hair.

“You can take a bath,” Penguin continued. “There’s no shower here but maybe that’s for the best. You shouldn’t get those bandages wet.” For a second he continued to look at the arm. “I should probably put a splint on that. Or a sling. Those bandages aren’t going to be enough while you’re moving around during the day.”

“Let’s worry about getting me clean first.” Riddler stood, feeling awkward under the attentive gaze. “Which way’s the bathroom?”

Penguin didn’t directly answer but turned to lead him back upstairs. The bathroom turned out to be the room at the end of the upstairs corridor, perpendicular to the master bedroom.

“I got the hot water reconnected since I knew I’d be here a while this time.”

He felt a sense of relief at that given the prospect of the alternative, boiling saucepans of water and carrying them upstairs. However he chose not to vocalise that.

“Do you have anything I can wear?”

“Oh there’s bound to be wardrobes of things in the spare bedrooms.” Penguin waved the worry away. “I’ll get you a bathrobe for now and you can help yourself once you’re done. Will you need help undressing or washing?”

It was impossible to suppress his blush at that offer and he covered his flustered reaction by fussing with the taps and adjusting the temperature. He knew from Arkham that Oswald was confident in his own body and nudity. Communal showers had never bothered him in the slightest. Riddler by comparison, wasn’t so relaxed. Not that he was about to admit that.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” he suggested. “And I can always yell if I do need help.”

He received a nod in response before Penguin headed for the door.

“Fair enough.”

Riddler let out a slow release of breath once he was alone and began slipping his arms from his sleeves. Easy enough on his left side but rather difficult over the bandage on his right. All the harder because his left hand didn’t have the same strength to pull the fabric sufficiently so as to not disturb his injury.

“Let me do that.”

The voice startled him and he jumped, unwittingly letting the sleeve snap back against his arm making him hiss. He glared round to see Penguin stood with the promised bathrobe draped over his shoulder and holding his hands out to assist. Reluctantly, he swallowed back his instinctive reaction and proffered his arm. It took mere moments for the other man to pull the tight sleeve loose and down over his hand and thus free him.

It took another effort of will for him not to bashfully wrap his arms round his exposed chest. Thankfully Oswald said nothing further and considerately folded the robe on a bath stool before heading once again for the door. Riddler waited until the man had completely gone before stripping the rest of the way and getting in the water. He couldn’t shake the impression that Oswald had given him a final approving glance before leaving but that was probably wishful thinking.


	3. Chapter 3

When Edward had finished with his bath he hastily wrapped himself in the waiting bathrobe lest Oswald return suddenly and catch an eyeful. Once safely concealed he awkwardly rubbed a hand towel over his wet hair to get the worst of the moisture out. It wasn’t washed particularly well given his handicap but he was at least confident there was no dirt clinging to the strands. Satisfied it wasn’t going to drip down his back, he set out to find suitable clothes.

The first room he tried contained nothing but ladies garments. He nearly abandoned it completely before his curiosity drove him to investigate. These didn’t strike him as the type of things the Kabuki twins would wear so he had to conclude it belonged to the Cobblepot family. From what he knew of fashion he’d place them as 1920s wear. Did that mean this wardrobe had belonged to Oswald’s grandmother? If so, why hadn’t it been ditched or sold long ago? Had his ancestors imagined a time when their descendants would wear this? Were they the reason that Penguin was so fastidious about his clothes?

Putting the puzzle both metaphorically and literally aside he set off once more to hunt out something he could comfortably wear. It took a couple of tries but he eventually found a chest of casual shirts, sweaters and trousers that were in his size. There was then an additional delay as he struggled to fasten the buttons. His fingers were working perfectly well but the motion to raise and manoeuvre his arm made it hurt all over again. He had to sit for a moment once he was done just to ensure he wouldn’t look visibly pained when he found Oswald.

It was as he was sat on the bed diligently breathing in and out that he found his gaze focusing on the pull rope hung nearby. There was no denying the logic of Penguin’s scheme. Given their situation keeping a low profile, working with the current infrastructure was not only sensible but quite smart. If they could procure some hooks – and possibly some extra lengths of rope – then it would be child’s play to affix them to the windows and thereby fashion an effective security system. He’d need to map out the outer windows and doors, as well as the arrangement of the servant’s call structure, to ensure every entrance was covered but that wouldn’t be difficult.

So motivated he set off to find Penguin in order to see if he already had such a plan prepared. Subconsciously he also started mapping the mansion in his head with rough hypothesises of where the ropes might travel. He wasn’t sure where he’d find Oswald and wandered back to the kitchen, through a dining room, into a sitting room and onward without seeing hide nor tail feather of him. He drew up short as he entered the next room however.

Every wall was lined with books. The only exception being the door he’d come in through and two long thin windows extending from floor to ceiling on the opposite side. Halfway up the wall was a balcony to enable people to reach the upper stacks. In the centre of the room were two armchairs across a small coffee table from a well-worn sofa. And on the sofa, poring over a sheet of paper and an open tome, was Oswald.

The man didn’t so much as glance in Riddler’s direction which sent a flare of irritation through him. Instead of calling him on it though he instead meandered in, detouring briefly to the shelves nearest. A heavy smell of dust hung about the books there and it was readily apparent these too were another weight of expectation handed down to the current heir. He almost dismissed the entire room as a worthless display piece before focusing again on Penguin. The man was reading _something_ and Riddler knew he was unlikely to be reading so avidly for sheer pleasure.

Directing his steps that way he quietly drew up to a position where he could peek over and see what held his interest. The realisation surprised him into speech.

“What language is that? Chinese?”

“Specifically it’s Mandarin.” Penguin still didn’t look up, being quite absorbed in his research.

“I didn’t know you spoke Mandarin.”

The comment finally earned his the other’s attention and he received a scathing look for his trouble.

“How do you think I communicated with the twins? Or managed to travel through China? I speak quite a few languages. In part at least. You can’t help but pick things up when you travel. And once you learn the word roots its not that hard.”

Edward kept quiet at that. Word play might be his forte but foreign languages were perhaps an area he’d overlooked. At least on such a practical level. He knew oddities but didn’t have the broad grasp required for effective communication. He moved over to sit opposite while Oswald gathered together his bits and pieces.

“I assume you’ve already looked at the bell system,” Penguin commented confidently. “No-one spends _that_ long in the bath.”

Edward considered citing his injury, or even his time spent searching out clothes, before deciding it was easier to simply agree. He didn’t want Oswald to think his broken arm left him too much of a liability.

“Yes,” he concurred. “Do you have a plan of the building? We could section off which bells to connect to which areas.”

Penguin didn’t answer but stood and walked over to a bay of shelves. Instead of grabbing a book though he pulled at the shelf itself and Riddler realised it was a concealed drawer in an otherwise inconspicuous piece of furniture. Glancing around the room again he noticed there were lines of shelving that was marginally thicker than the higher or lower shelves. He probably wouldn’t have thought anything of it though if he’d been exploring the room alone.

Coming back over, Oswald laid out a blueprint, yellowed by age, and turned it so Edward could see it the right way up.

“These marks show the positions of the ropes in each room.” He pointed to a symbol that might have been anything from a dollar sign to an ampersand. “I can tell you which service bell rings for each.”

Edward nodded thoughtfully as he took in the design. Subconsciously he wondered if there was a second building plan with the less visible features plotted but he refrained from asking. Instead he focused on the task at hand.

“Do you have another sheet of paper? And a pencil?”

This time Oswald merely reached for a drawer on the underside of the coffee table and presented him with the requested items. Then he sat back while Riddler lost himself tracing over the original design and adding in the paths they wanted to consider for their new security system. Although he was mostly lost in the work, he did occasionally find himself wincing or hissing as he moved instinctively and pulled at his tender arm.

Oswald didn’t comment, except when asked to match a bell pull to its destination, and Riddler assumed he was politely ignoring his discomfort. That was until he laid down his pencil.

“Are you done?”

Looking up he found Penguin watching him with a faint frown that he couldn’t decipher.

“Yes. We can start sourcing-”

He was promptly interrupted before he could suggest anything further.

“We can start by properly seeing to that arm. If you’re going to be wandering about, let alone helping with handiwork, then you’ll need it properly secured. If I’d known you’d be so gung-ho with it I’d have tied it up better yesterday. Come on.”

Without waiting for a reply, he stood and marched out of the room. Not having much choice in the matter, and only his inherent stubbornness to argue against it, Ed followed him. He wasn’t surprised to find their path lead back to the kitchen. He suspected this was the room Oswald primarily lived in which made sense since the oven doubled as a heater thus saving making a noticeable drain on the energy lines.

As he sat himself at the table, Oswald once again fetched his first aid kit. This time though he also rummaged around until he found two long wooden spoons and a pack of cotton wadding. Opening the box he picked out a new length of bandage and laid everything on the table top.

“I’ll need to get the twins to restock,” he commented even as he began untying and winding the worn length from Ed’s arm.

A vague sense of guilt curled in Edward’s stomach and he fought not to show it. Still, it was a matter of pride to say something.

“I’ll reimburse you once I’m out of your hair.”

This was waved away.

“I’m sure the opportunity to do something in return for me will crop up one day. I mean, that’s basically what friends are for right?”

The use of the word ‘friends’ caused a pause and he considered that carefully.

“Are we friends?” he queried curiously.

A nervous glance flitted up to him before Oswald turned to discard the rubbish.

“Well,” he offered hesitantly. “We have a shared life style. Similar goals though not conflicting. I mean, you want to be recognised as the smartest man in Gotham-”

“The world,” Riddler corrected quickly.

“The world,” Oswald agreed. “While I want to rule Gotham as the rightful heir to the title. There’s no reason we can’t be allies in each others’ ambitions. Which is kind of what friends are, isn’t it?”

“I suppose so.”

Ed automatically reached his free hand to hold the splints in place so Oswald could focus on sorting the new wrappings, starting with the soft padding. As his arm was gently tended to, Ed felt a new warmth settle in his chest. It had been a long while since anyone had offered him friendship. He only hoped he wouldn’t end up disappointed once again.


	4. Chapter 4

Working together was easier than either of them could reasonably have hoped for. Oswald easily found some spare pieces of rope and was more than happy to rip up some moth eaten old clothes to source a few strips of elastic. These last pieces were because Edward knew the system wouldn’t work properly with a fixed tension system.

As he explained over their snack of biscuits and cheese, with a non-elastic rope connecting the window to a bell, it would be possible by slow opening to pull it in such a way that there would be no distinct sound at all. If however there was something elastic to store up that energy until it reached a tipping point, then snapping the rope as it released, the alarm would sound as they wanted.

He calculated the appropriate amounts they’d need to use, and how best to position them in the network, and Oswald did the actual work of clambering about and twisting hooks in to affix the rope in place. By the end of the afternoon they’d rigged up a simple but effective security system that met both their expectations.

Edward had also developed a new respect for Oswald’s unerring sense of balance and physical confidence. When he’d first seen images of the man, he would admit he’d assumed the Penguin would be as clumsy as his namesake. Despite having seen the criminal in action against the Bat, proving Penguins could actually fly over short distances at least, he still somehow assumed that was a special trick he pulled off when fighting. Seeing him in his own home, casually walking along the back of furniture and balancing perfectly on impossible ledges, he had to conclude it was a natural ability.

His own skills were not so graceful. He’d trained to allow himself to fight but when he stopped focusing on controlling his movements then he was as likely to trip over his own feet as not. He supposed it might also be the difference in their upbringing as well as any inherent talent. His own childhood and life until becoming the Riddler was decidedly not athletic. There was no secret about Oswald having spent a good many years travelling which already sounded a great deal more energetic than Edward’s time in the laboratory.

He chose not to reflect upon these thoughts when their ambition was achieved though. Instead he merely sent Oswald to the kitchen to see if it would work when he attempted to break in somewhere. Although he didn’t tell Oswald where he was heading he suspected the man would guess. The conservatory had proved the most challenging room to navigate and Ed wanted to see if the solution they had adopted would work. Oswald had not seemed to appreciate his concern about it and in a sense Ed would have liked to demonstrate why his concerns were valid if the system did fail them now.

Very cautiously pushing the window open, he slipped in as soon as the gap was wide enough and set about heading inside, intent on seeing how far he could get before Oswald was alerted. The answer turned out to be not very far at all. Later he would wonder at why he hadn’t put two and two together but at the time he only saw the empty bird cages and forgot to speculate why they were currently empty when Oswald had already mentioned his birds coming here.

He had just enough forewarning from the draft and aggressive hoot to duck his head, meaning the talons went through his hair rather than his scalp. Unfortunately he then raised his arm instinctively to ward the bird off and it immediately latched into his bandaged limb. He’d grit his teeth before realising the sharp points had been restrained from sinking into his skin by the wooden struts bound in the wrapping.

“Xiao,” Oswald called abruptly from the inner doorway. “Stop that.”

The owl hooted once more at Ed, as if to tell him to count himself lucky, and then flew back up to it's perch in the tree. He glared after it, even if it was more himself he was angry at.

“You’re lucky most of my pets are out right now. Owls draw too much attention when out during the day though.”

“Is that why you weren’t so worried about defending this room?”

A shrug met this question.

“Partially. I have to keep them locked away overnight though or they’d be vulnerable to other predators. Doesn’t stop them from kicking up a racket when someone they don’t know stops by.”

“I take it the bell system worked though? You appeared here quite quickly.”

“Yes.” Oswald grinned, clearly pleased. “We should have plenty of warning if any unwelcome visitors stop by.”

Edward nodded at that, his attention already drifting to an assessment of the number of cages apparent in the large central tree structure of the room. He’d encountered a few of Oswald’s birds before. The Chinese owl who he’d just reacquainted with, a vulture, some finches and at least one raven who he would have been interested to study closer. He knew they were reputed to be highly intelligent.

A tsk sound distracted him and he looked round to see Oswald practically glaring at his bandaged arm. He realised suddenly that he’d been idly rubbing where the bird had pulled at it.

“Am I going to have to retie that for you _every_ day?”

“It’s fine. Your bird just dislodged the splints.”

“That’s _not_ fine. That defeats the point of having them there if they’ve moved.”

He tried not to fidget or shift anxiously under Oswald’s piercing gaze as he continued to stare at his arm. Finally the shorter man came to his conclusion.

“I’ll have to try and plaster it.”

“What?”

“I can mix some flour and water to make a basic plaster. It should do a better job of protecting it since you seem intent on flinging it about.”

“I am not flinging it about. Your bird attacked me!”

“Because you were breaking in!”

“To test the system you asked me to help with!”

“She didn’t know that!”

Edward managed to bite back his follow up accusation – that Oswald could have warned him about his guard bird – and instead refocused on the point at hand. While he had no doubt he could manage to fix his bandages himself, even if it would be awkward one handed, the option of a plaster cast would solve any need to fix it for the foreseeable future. Assuming no major accidents happened. And if Oswald was willing to do that then he’d be a fool to refuse.

He exhaled gently.

“If you’d be willing to put a cast on it, then I would be grateful.”

The change in tone clearly caught Penguin by surprise and he shifted out of what Ed now realised had been a defensive pose.

“I offered didn’t I?” he said in lieu of acknowledging his momentary loss of temper.

Without anything further he turned and headed back into the house proper, Ed following silently. They made their quiet way to the kitchen once more and Ed settled into what was beginning to feel like his place at the table while Oswald got out a bowl and set about finding what he needed.

Normally Ed had nothing against silences and if anything found them preferable to the inane conversation that was the usual alternative. However he found himself wanting to converse with Oswald, if only because he knew the man possessed knowledge in areas Ed lacked. So while Penguin focused on what he was doing Ed decided to probe him to see what he might learn.

“You said you cage your birds overnight,” he began, mostly to indicate the topic he wanted to discuss. “Are you never concerned when you release your birds during the day that they won’t come back?”

A low snorting scoff answered him.

“No.” Casting his gaze up briefly, Oswald obviously recognised the query in Ed’s look. “They’re not just my pets you understand. They’re my family.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Most birds are quite hard to train you know. Unless you’ve reared them from chicks. Then they’ll imprint on you and you can teach them.”

“Is that what you’ve done with your flock of thieves? Hand reared them like some avian Fagin?”

He could see Oswald got the reference by his crooked smile.

“Some of them. Not all the finches but they’re communal so when I had a couple working for me others followed suit. A lot of them actually come and go. Turning up with something to trade when food is scarce elsewhere. Only a very few of them are permanent pets, if you want to use the term.”

“Your owl,” Ed noted.

“Yes. She’s actually the chick of my first Chinese owl. They were a lot less well tempered than her. She was the runt of the brood though so I reared her and she became attached.”

“And you give them food and lodging in return for trinkets they might find?”

“Pretty much. Some of them have a better idea than others of what constitutes something worthwhile. The finches can’t carry much weight but a few of them have learned to recognise dollar bills now which is an improvement on some of the trash they were bringing me before.”

Ed couldn’t help but try to calculate the profits in the scheme. Approximating the number of birds and averaging the frequency of any worthwhile treasure. It wasn’t ever going to be enough to support a comfortable lifestyle but it was at least a regular income.

“Right.” Oswald stood decisively. “Now don’t you dare move that arm while the plaster sets. I’ll see if we have enough in the cupboards to make a chilli.”

As the man stalked across to begin making a dinner for them, and Ed resigned himself to waiting, he got a strange feeling of familiarity in his situation, although he couldn’t think why. He knew for a fact he’d never been waited on like this before yet some sense of similarity struck him.

Unable to isolate why he felt the scenario echoed in his mind, he resolved to forget about it and focus on enjoying the companionship as well as planning how else he might repay Oswald for his generosity.


	5. Chapter 5

Falling into a routine with Oswald came surprisingly naturally even though it involved Edward operating outside his own routine. He’d always been something of a night owl, and entering into a life of crime had only reinforced that, yet now he was finding himself crashing out early and awaking practically with the dawn due to his healing limb. Oswald, whether by nature or nurture, was an early riser in order to release his birds with the sunrise. Which meant Edward found himself wandering into the kitchen each morning to be presented with what breakfast goods were available laid out.

He had no idea when the Kabuki twins presented themselves but they clearly did stop by with extra supplies. Obviously they made sure to keep out of his sight which irritated him slightly. A part of him almost wanted to set some kind of trap but he dismissed the idea as far too likely to upset his host.

One thing they did regularly deliver, with whatever else needed topping up, was a few daily newspapers and the first part of the morning was always spent perusing them for things of interest. Penguin had no objection to sharing this resource and even seemed to enjoy bouncing ideas off Riddler. In return Ed discovered Oswald had something of a gift for the quick crossword, even if he lacked the patience for the cryptic.

If something noteworthy did present itself then Penguin would usually disappear to make possible plans in private. Riddler made no comment on it but privately felt frustrated that he couldn’t hope to pull off any heists for a while. In truth he would have liked to have lent a hand, metaphorically speaking, to Penguin’s planning but he knew better than to ask. Instead he would spend the time exploring the nooks and crannies of the crumbling house.

The weight of history was apparent in every corner of the place, from diaries of noteworthy Cobblepots crammed into the library, to the solid impractical furniture that could really do with renovating. As he peered at various portraits all staring disapprovingly down through the ages, he got a sense of why Oswald was so determined to make back the family fortune by any means necessary. It couldn’t be easy to have those expectations left to you with nothing to help you along.

In a strange way it almost made Ed grateful for the freedom from family commitments he currently enjoyed. True he’d never received any encouragement from his parents but they equally clearly had no expectations of him either. In fact, they were convinced he’d never amount to anything and he already felt he’d proved that expectation wrong. Would Oswald ever get that sense of satisfaction in out doing his ancestors?

By the time Oswald resurfaced later in the day, both men were ready for some company. A chess board provided some focus and it turned out not to be a bad game for them. Edward knew every practised manoeuvre and could easily plot several moves ahead in any game they played. He found himself repeatedly stymied however by Oswald’s aggressive strategy. Where Edward played with grace and respect for acknowledged tactics, Oswald let impulse guide him and often caught Ed sufficiently off guard to sneak a win.

Dinner and cooking became something of an exchange of cultures. Oswald had picked up numerous techniques and tastes from his travels and liked to prepare singular dishes. However this was one area where Ed had the gift of improvisation. Where Oswald would be growling over being short the right ingredients, Edward would pull something random together. A skill learnt from years of providing for himself on a shoestring budget. To his internal satisfaction, most times Oswald declared the meal a delight.

The only downside to this convivial atmosphere in fact was when Ed remembered it was only a short term truce. As soon as his arm healed, undoubtedly Oswald would either demand his repayment or kick him out. Most likely both. It was a struggle at times to maintain his emotional distance though and he continually reminded himself of the last time he had let someone close to him.

It was especially hard when Oswald took a personal interest in his hygiene.

“Your hair looks like it’s been dipped in cooking oil. When did you last wash it?”

Rather than admit to the truth, Ed attempted to prevaricate.

“I’m not used to washing it without a shower. And it’s doubly hard with only one usable arm.”

Oswald’s sigh told him he wasn’t happy with the answer. Before Ed could come up with a proper dismissal of the topic however, Oswald had made up his mind.

“Come on.” He stepped towards the doorway. “I’ll wash it for you.”

“What? No.” Despite himself, Edward stood as well although he found himself ducking his head at Oswald’s sudden piercing stare. “I’ll manage.”

“You’re clearly _not_ though,” Oswald pointed out. “I can’t let you drift about the house looking like a stray cat. It’ll be no trouble to wash it while you take a bath.”

The insinuation that he’d be naked while this took place brought a hot blush to Ed’s cheeks.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to wash it over the side before I get in?”

A derisive snort aptly conveyed what Oswald thought of that suggestion before he answered.

“Hardly. Besides which it’ll save water if we combine it with your bath. Now come on.”

There was no chance for him to object further before Oswald had left to go start running the water. Once the man’s mind was made up it was near impossible to change. All the way up the stairs and along to the bathroom, Edward dragged his feet as his mind whirled for an excuse. Nothing viable presented itself. Even saying he didn’t want Oswald to see him naked wouldn’t suffice. Oswald could say that they’d already seen each other naked in Arkham and if Ed cited being alone with Oswald in particular was the problem then he might face some even more awkward questions.

Stepping into the bathroom he found himself immediately tested by the sight of Oswald stripped of jacket and tie, with shirt sleeves rolled up revealing his thick arms. He deliberately ignored him and moved to the laundry basket to begin stripping his own garments as unobtrusively as he could. He found himself folding them for no better reason than to avoid turning.

“Okay. That should be enough water. Best get in before it gets cold.”

Setting his jaw, Ed pivoted so as to keep his exposure out of Oswald’s line of sight and silently clambered into the bath, immediately bringing his knees up and suddenly grateful for the short tub.

“Lean back.”

A glance showed him Oswald was ready with a beaker of water and he diligently tipped his head backwards. As the water sloshed over his head he let his eyes shut and tried to ignore the intimacy of the situation. Which worked precisely up until Oswald began rubbing his wide fingers through the dark lengths and talking to him.

“I always liked bath time as a child. I mean, I guess most kids do right? Playing in the water, sinking ships, that sort of thing.” He reached for the shampoo and poured a generous amount on. “But I always liked it because my mother would wash my hair for me.”

The fingers began a massaging motion on Edward’s scalp and he bit back a moan of pleasure before feeling them begin running through the strands again. If Oswald noticed the reaction he gave no sign of it.

“She used to tell me I was her handsome boy. That I would grow up to break a lot of hearts. And she always spoke about me marrying some heiress and restoring the family wealth.”

The water rushing suddenly over his head sent an unexpected shiver over him and he kept his eyes shut until he heard a low laugh.

“I never had the heart to tell her there would be no wife for this Cobblepot.”

The implication brought Edward’s eyes open and he unwittingly met Oswald’s wry gaze.

“Another reason I had to seek other ways to replenish the family fortune. It would have been so easy if I just accepted some fawning rich girl. It’s not like there’s a shortage of them in this city.”

Ed was acutely aware that Oswald’s hand was resting on the nape of his neck and he swallowed as he tried to corral his mind into rational thought. The first fact he fixated on was how this was yet another area in which the young Oswald would have felt he was failing his family. Had this driven him in his endeavours? A need to prove this lack of desire for a wealthy wife did not invalidate his worth or usefulness?

It occurred to him he’d been quiet too long when Oswald shifted back slightly, taking both his gaze and his hand away, and Ed realised the silence might have been interpreted as shocked revulsion. In a desperate bid to prove that wasn’t the case he reached out his hand to latch onto his wrist.

Oswald froze immediately and glanced back.

Edward had to lick his lips before he risked speaking.

“Would you wash my back? Before you go?”

A smile met the request and Oswald settled back in place immediately.

“Of course.”

He reached for the soap and Ed lent forward unbidden to allow him access. Oswald carefully swept his wet hair over his shoulder, letting his hand rest on his shoulder briefly before removing it to work up a lather. As he ran his hands first across one shoulder blade and then the other, he spoke quietly.

“Perhaps tomorrow I should help you with your make up? I have eye liner and mascara and the like. It might help you feel more yourself.”

Ed hummed in response, distracted by the tactile sensations of soft fingers on his skin. It was the first time anyone had stroked his spine and he found the sensation very pleasant. He almost arched like a cat under the feeling. The thought of Oswald, close and focused on his face as he highlighted his eyes with a dark pencil, combined with the sweeping touch made his heart begin to thud. He couldn’t help but imagine the hand tracing further… his face drifting closer… lips brushing as a palm ran down… right to…

The moment shattered with the jarring ring of a bell echoing up through the empty house and both men froze as the realisation struck them: it was no longer an empty house.


	6. Chapter 6

In the sudden scramble Riddler nearly fell out of the bath and Penguin slipped on the splashed water, only just saving himself by grabbing the bath edge. It put them in a rather awkward proximity but Oswald quickly righted himself and fixed his eyes safely across the room. His voice when he spoke was a low growl that did nothing to ease Ed’s fluttering heart rate.

“Put some clothes on but keep out of sight.”

He was gone moments later leaving Ed to finally focus on the immediate concern. Grabbing the nearby towel he hastily dried himself before pulling on his briefs. The unexpected intrusion had thankfully killed any reaction he’d been having to Oswald’s proximity, sparing him at least that embarrassment. Still he hesitated over trousers and shirt before deciding the bath robe would suffice. He couldn’t fight either way and his mind was as useful whatever he wore. At least this way he could follow after Oswald while still tying the sash, even if he regretted not taking the towel as his wet hair soaked unpleasantly through to his shoulders.

The sound of raised voices distracted him and he made his way quickly but cautiously along to the kitchen where Penguin’s angry tone indicated he’d found their intruder.

“I might have killed you! Or did that not occur to you?”

“Jeez, relax would ya. I knew you’d come find me soon as I heard the bell. Wasn’t sure I had the right place ‘til then though.”

Edward let out a sigh as he recognised it was only Harley and made his entrance into the room. It wasn’t until they both glanced at him however that he realised that he might have made a tactical mistake. Oswald flushed and diverted his eyes again. Harley contrastingly stared with an ever widening grin.

“Woah, Ozzie. I get why you were so hissy at the unannounced visit. Didn’t realise I was interrupting something.”

The question of whether it was actually possible to dry oneself by vigorous blushing suddenly occurred to Ed and he wrapped his arms tighter around himself to hold the robe firmly shut. It was a rather pointless exercise though since his naked legs were fully exposed, as was enough of his chest to show he wasn’t wearing anything there either.

“You didn’t interrupt anything other than Edward having a bath!” Oswald practically spat in response to the accusation, drawing himself up resolutely.

Her gaze switched to him and dropped down to take in his clearly wet shirt, cuffs pushed up to his elbows and collar loosened. The grin didn’t so much as flicker.

“And you were just doing the dishes were you?” she teased.

“Oswald had to help because I’ve got a broken arm.” Edward stepped forward, deciding to brazen this out in the best way he knew how, by turning the tide of questions back on her. “And I nearly broke the other one rushing to see who had broken in. What are you doing here?”

The smile finally slipped from her face.

“Ah. Well. I kinda needed a place to stay while I do some rethinking about my life. Somewhere I won’t be disturbed by people close to me. Like Joker. Or Ivy.” She bit her lip and dropped her gaze. “Pengy said he liked having company. I didn’t know you two were-”

“We weren’t anything,” Oswald interrupted firmly. “And there’s more than enough room for the two of you.” He sighed and cast his glance back to Ed with an almost rueful look before refocusing on Harley. “Did you want something to eat? There’s some leftover stew.”

“Oh man that sounds great! I’m starving.”

While Harley slid herself into a seat at the table and Oswald fetched her a plate, Ed retreated back to the relative safety of upstairs where he could dress more appropriately. It didn’t especially worry him that Harley had seen him so exposed. Her opinion on his physical shape wasn’t any concern of his. It didn’t even disturb him that she’d assumed his interest in Penguin. It was accurate after all. What did upset him however was Oswald’s insistent denial. The thought was clearly distasteful to him which hurt Ed more particularly since he’d practically stated that his preference lay with men rather than women.

He tried to compartmentalise the experience during the period he awkwardly shuffled into his clothes. He was attracted to Oswald, that was a fact he couldn’t change, but neither was the fact Oswald wasn’t interested back. The only thing to do therefore was to ignore or suppress all such feelings. It was tempting to leave but there were two valid arguments against that. One being his arm that meant he still required a helpmate in certain situations. The other being that Harley would undoubtedly link his departure now with her arrival, either leaving her thinking he was avoiding her or more probably confirming her assumption of his interest in Oswald.

So he therefore steeled himself to spend an evening pretending indifference in their company and returned downstairs. There appeared to be something of a debate going on as he re-entered the kitchen.

“I don’t think she did,” Oswald was saying dubiously.

“Are you _sure_ though?”

Riddler rather wished he’d dallied longer as Oswald immediately lassoed him into the conversation.

“Let’s get another opinion. Harley’s been in Arkham with Poison Ivy and the other day she was possessed by the urge to kiss her. Is that likely to be Ivy’s unique pheromones?”

Edward carefully sat himself as he considered his response.

“Yes and no.”

He noted Oswald roll his eyes opposite and just caught himself before the corners of his lips could quirk themselves upwards.

“What d’ya mean?” Harley pressed him.

The eager tone brought his smile out and he turned slightly to elucidate her.

“If you’re asking whether her control of plant toxins and drugs induced you, then the answer is no. Those abilities are suppressed in Arkham. However, pure physical attraction is linked to personal pheromones so in that sense the answer is yes.”

“But I’ve never been attracted to a girl before!” She turned her alarmed gaze back onto Penguin who held his hands up in response.

“Don’t look at me. I’ve never been interested in any gender but my own. I didn’t go through any sort of questioning phase.”

Her pleading gaze turned to Edward who shifted awkwardly.

“I did,” he confirmed. “And I agree it can seem alarming but that’s only if you allow yourself to be influenced by society’s expectations.” He found his gaze had drifted back to Oswald. “When you take a step back and consider it, attraction really is a broader field than most people allow themselves to consider. And there’s no changing who you’re attracted to. Or not.” He finally fixed his eyes back on her.

She looked shaken and he understood that she’d rather pegged her hopes on being assured it was all a perfume induced hallucination from which she could wake up now. Coming from her sheltered background he could appreciate why finding herself part of this community might still scare her, even though she’d already dived straight into the criminal world.

“But I don’t know anything about lesbian relationships!”

Oswald barked out a laugh at that.

“Neither do either of us,” he pointed out.

Edward however felt a kinship with her in light of his own relationship troubles and he laid what he hoped was a comforting hand on her arm.

“I’m hardly in a position to give relationship advice to anyone, least of all someone who had their own TV show dedicated to it, but I would say this. The gender of your crush isn’t what’s important. It’s getting to know them and finding out what will make them happy.”

A silence fell between them as she considered that and Ed chanced another look across to Oswald. Then Harley raised her head again.

“But what about Mister J? I still love him. We have fun.”

“That’s something you’ll have to figure out on your own,” Oswald told her. “Only you can say who you prefer to be with.”

“I doubt either would consider a polyamorous relationship with the other,” Ed opined.

“Its definitely Mister J,” she decided suddenly. “I mean, its obvious right? He loves me. I love him. That’s it. Sorted.”

The instinctive glance between her companions easily conveyed their shared belief in the dubious nature of that statement – specifically the ‘he loves me’ part – but equally clearly neither were going to tell her that.

“Why don’t you sleep on it a few days?” Oswald suggested. “Consider everything properly.”

“Let yourself adjust to the fact you could be bi,” Edward added. “You’ll find it might make sense of several aspects of your life that perhaps felt out of sync before. It’s only sensible to get to know yourself before offering yourself to others.”

“Ooh! I like that. A play on you gotta love yourself before you can love anyone else right?”

He shrugged, unsure if that really equated to what he was getting at but willing to allow it if it got her to do any self-analysis before running back to Joker.

“Come on,” Oswald prompted her, standing and heading round the table for the door. “You can help me make up a spare bed for you. I’ll say goodnight Edward.”

Riddler realised with disappointment it was impossible now to return to their shared moment from the bathroom and in all likelihood he’d never experience that closeness with Oswald again. Despite Oswald’s offer to share his make-up Ed knew he wouldn’t have the courage himself to ask. He suspected too that even if he did the arrangement would now include Harley which wasn’t exactly the experience he had briefly hoped for.

With an effort he managed a half smile and a soft ‘good-night’. It was only when he saw Harley look back at him curiously from the doorway though that he realised he’d probably watched Oswald leave with a touch too much longing. Her knowing smile did nothing to calm him and he hurried to hide away in his own bedroom to avoid any further embarrassment.


	7. Chapter 7

The next day all of Ed’s comfortable familiarity with the house seemed gone and he felt awkward and shy. It wasn’t that he disliked Harley, merely that now he was sure she knew his secret he couldn’t relax.

Wandering down to breakfast he flinched instinctively as he heard loud laughter coming from the kitchen. It took him a moment to remind himself he was an adult now, more than that, a criminal mastermind, and he needn’t be anxious of bullies. Especially not when he knew it was only Harley and Oswald. As he finally entered the room he could see Oswald wiping tears of laughter from his eyes and his insides clenched that he could never bring the same mirth.

If he took longer than usual hovering about the kettle and grill neither of the others called him on it. In fact they seemed engrossed in swapping outlandish stories of crimes that would be unbelievable anywhere other than Gotham. Ed kept quiet and merely watched and listened before slipping away to go prepare for his own day. It was only once he’d left the kitchen that he realised he’d neglected to collect any of the daily papers and he cursed under his breath as he wondered about whether to go back for one or not.

The ordeal of exposing his distraction and forgetfulness convinced him it wasn’t worth it. Especially considering he couldn’t really use much of the information for a while. Instead he continued his exploration of the house, choosing to venture back to the converted conservatory that served as an aviary.

Oswald’s Chinese owl was asleep up on one of the branches but woke up to glance his way and hoot softly in acknowledgement of his arrival before closing her eyes again. He found himself smiling at the easy acceptance he’d apparently won. The bird was obviously clever enough to recognise him as a familiar associate. Most of the birds were out but there were still a small flock of finches fluttering about and chattering to each other. A few landed down near his feet and he realised they expected any visitors to feed them. Glancing about he spotted the large seed bag and caught up a handful to throw.

He watched as the flock descended and began eagerly gathering the sudden bounty. To him they all looked identical but now he could see them together it was apparent there were slight differences. Easier to identify within the group but it began to make sense how Oswald had learnt to tell each individual apart.

Riddler sat and propped his head on his fist. Oswald had an excellent eye for detail, even if it was directed differently to his own. He also had a well developed intuition, or perhaps it was emotional intelligence, that rivalled Ed’s own knowledge based learning. His inventiveness knew no bounds either, easily making leaps and thinking laterally when presented with a problem. Edward might undeniably have the edge when it came to matters of logic and reasoning but he couldn’t deny that Oswald’s method got results.

Added to which the man’s sheer confidence in himself was attractive. Where Riddler was self-aware enough to know he sought validation to reinforce his self-belief, Penguin needed no one else’s recognition.

A change in the room caught Ed’s attention although he couldn’t immediately place what the difference was. Glancing around though his eye was suddenly fixated on the two figures balanced in the tree like they were perfectly at home there. Both were looking down at him with identical blank faces. He stared back at them equally unmoved and waited to see what they would do. He knew the Kabuki twins’ reputation and understood that even if he were at peak health they would probably be able to take him out without difficulty. It was also well known how protective they were of Penguin and he was unsure how they would therefore view his residence in the house.

It was a deliberate effort of mind over matter not to flinch as they suddenly dropped down and stood before him. When they made no aggressive move though he carefully unfolded himself and faced them. In perfect synchronicity they swung small satchels off their back and handed them to him. He couldn’t help his blink as he accepted them and glanced to see what he’d been given. Bread and some wrapped meat from a butcher were obvious indicators of the type of supplies he was receiving.

Looking up again he pondered how he was supposed to respond. Feeling awkward about speaking when he knew he didn’t speak their language, he fumbled and combined a mixture of signing and body language; bowing slightly from the waist and touching his chin before dropping his hand palm uppermost.

The twins glanced at each other before looking back to him. Then they each raised a hand in clear farewell before springing back up into the tree and practically diving out a window pane that he could now see hinged open in the roof. His jaw clenched slightly as he realised there was an entrance they had missed and what was more, Oswald probably knew about it.

The man’s voice drew him back as he approached the room.

“-and this is where I keep my birds. I’d advise you don’t come here alone though. They can be a little territorial.”

Edward turned in time to see Oswald wander in with Harley and caught the surprised expression on his face as he saw him there.

“Edward. I didn’t expect to find you here.”

Since he hadn’t actually been posed a question, and still feeling somewhat aggrieved about the obfuscation over the number of windows to secure, Edward merely shrugged in response. The huffy attitude clearly didn’t worry Oswald however who promptly stepped closer.

“My birds obviously like you,” he began with a smile before his eyes noticed the small bags Ed was clutching and he once again stopped in surprise. “Have the twins been here?”

“They just dropped in. Literally.” Ed hoped the man picked up on his emphasis but Oswald’s focus went elsewhere.

“And they gave _you_ the supplies?”

Something about his tone and the way his eyes practically sparkled up at him destroyed any aloofness Ed was trying to maintain. He shrugged again, albeit more bashfully.

“I was here,” he offered vaguely.

“I’d say they know something you don’t Ozzie.”

Harley’s comment abruptly reminded Ed of her presence and his precarious situation. He stepped away quickly although unable to immediately remove his gaze from Oswald’s glowing look.

“I’ll put these things in the kitchen.”

Without waiting for an answer he turned and strode away. This situation was getting far too difficult to balance and he realised suddenly that he would have to leave sooner rather than later. Stopping just outside the conservatory he leant back against the wall to centre himself. It was bad enough that Harley could see his infatuation, she at least was a trained professional, but how did the twins know? Was he that obvious? If so then it would only be a matter of time before Oswald figured it out as well. How long could he realistically risk staying?

As he inhaled slowly, his ears picked up their renewed conversation.

“What did you mean, they know something I don’t?”

“Oh come on! It’s obvious Edward likes you.”

A long pause met this answer and Ed held his breath as he wondered what Oswald’s expression contained. He almost peered around to see but he didn’t think he wanted to know if it was genuinely horrified. Let him pretend a second longer.

“Wait! You mean _likes me_ likes me?”

“Pengy… if he was an emoji he’d have heart eyes.”

Edward clapped a hand over his mouth to contain the piteous sound that summary drew forth and practically ran. He needed to get out of here. NOW.

He hadn’t even reached the stairs before he heard Oswald’s confused voice calling to him as he noticed his flight.

“Edward?”

There was no stopping to reconsider now though. His instincts told him he had to escape before these feelings too were either used against him or else roundly mocked. It was awkward running with one arm tightly pressed to his chest and his heart hurt as he realised he owed this very ability to run at all on Oswald’s kindness. That he would still need to repay. He pressed his free hand to his head to try and suppress the thoughts crowding him and then wrenched open his bedroom door.

Perhaps it was an indicator of how disturbed he was that he didn’t bother about shutting it, merely running to grab a few half scribbled plans to tuck inside his shirt. He wasn’t sure later if he’d merely forgotten how fast Oswald could be or simply wasn’t thinking at all. Either way, before he could return to the doorway, Oswald was there solidly blocking it and staring intently up at him.

“Oswald. I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me but it’s obviously time for me to be moving on.”

His stuttered sentence was completely ignored as Oswald continued to stare.

“Is it true?”

Although playing dumb was something Riddler would have said he’d _never_ do, now was clearly the time to try any method of avoidance.

“Is what true?”

The folded arms and frown showed him this tactic wasn’t going to work even before Oswald spoke again.

“That you… _like_ me.” Obviously picking up on the leeway the word choice offered, it was promptly amended. “That you’re attracted to me. Physically. Romantically. Whatever.”

Edward opened his mouth only to close it and glance away. He should lie. Tell Oswald it was all in Harley’s imagination. But he’d been on the receiving end of such teasing and it hurt, regardless of whether you reciprocated. It had been a cruel sport of his peers in his years of study to insinuate various people were fond of him in an attempt to embarrass them. He didn’t want to be the one to dent Oswald’s confidence.

Forcing himself to look back and meet the man’s eyes therefore, he answered honestly.

“Yes, it’s true. I’m attracted to you. In every way that matters.”

The stillness that followed practically suffocated him.


	8. Chapter 8

The slow, almost feral smile that spread across Oswald’s face did nothing to reassure Edward. Neither did his slow step forward, shutting the door behind himself.

“So you _are_ attracted to me,” he purred. “I wasn’t sure. I mean, I know I’m a catch… but you’re a tough man to read Mister Nygma.”

Oswald had advanced to stand intimidatingly close, peering up at him with that same smug smile that twisted Edward’s insides. He glanced away, holding onto what dignity he had left.

“Yes, well, if you want to mock me for it get on with it.”

“Mock you?” The tilt of Oswald’s head indicated the suggestion had caught him by surprise and he looked back to see a new expression on his face. It looked almost hurt. “Edward, if you weren’t so damn tall I’d already be kissing you by now.”

The sudden change in expectations threw him and for a few seconds they just stood at an impasse. Then Ed solved the problem by swooping down even as he reached to pull Penguin’s face up towards him. It was uncoordinated and a little too desperate to be pleasant but he loved every instant regardless. Especially when one of Oswald’s hands swept up and into his hair to hold him in place so his lips could be more thoroughly enjoyed.

He pulled back when he felt Oswald’s tongue lick against them however, partly because he needed a moment to process first before going any further, but also because he was aware their stance wasn’t entirely comfortable for a more in depth make out session.

“Can I take it this means you’re attracted to me too?”

The question drew a plainly frustrated huff and an eye roll.

“Do you know, for such an intelligent man you really can be an oblivious idiot.” As this clearly didn’t clarify things enough for Edward, Oswald continued. “I’ve been flirting with you for days now. I washed your hair for heaven’s sake!”

“I thought you were just being a good host.”

“Most hosts don’t help their guest bathe!”

“But you said we were friends! Isn’t that what friends would do?”

“I can assure you I have never helped either Kabuki twin wash.”

“Well I wouldn’t know! It’s not like I’ve ever had any proper friends.”

The admission derailed the argument and both parties seemed temporarily at a loss for where to go from here. Then Oswald seized control of the situation again.

“There’s been too much talking. Let’s get back to the action.”

So saying he swept his leg round and knocked Ed’s feet from under him, immediately pushing his tumbling body to land back on his mattress. Before Edward could even regain his breath, Oswald had clambered up to hold him in place.

“That’s better,” he announced before returning his attention to plundering Ed’s mouth.

Which was… decidedly pleasant. Oswald was very single minded and his whole attention now was focused on kissing Ed, burying his fingers into his hair once again to hold him where he wanted him. Edward however was gifted with the ability to multi-task. While his mouth was occupied, his hands roamed, mapping out the shape of his partner. It didn’t really occur to him that his touch might be construed as arousing particularly. Only that he wanted to learn every aspect of Oswald Cobblepot that he possibly could.

Yet as his hands drifted across the soft curve of his backside, prompting a deliberate roll of the wide hips against him, he realised he might be giving the wrong impression of what he wanted. Breaking his lips away therefore he called a halt.

“Wait.”

The quiet call immediately brought Oswald up short and he sat back with an anxious expression. Ed awkwardly smiled at him and ran his hands soothingly across the thick thighs pinning his hips while he tried to find the words he wanted. It wasn’t that he wasn’t enjoying the sensations he was experiencing only that everything was happening too fast for him to deal with. He needed time to analyse the course they were on and to prepare himself for Oswald’s expectations.

“I don’t think we should get too carried away too quickly,” he offered. “For one thing, Harley’s still downstairs. I’d rather not have her come looking for us while we’re… getting acquainted.”

“Getting acquainted,” Oswald echoed in amusement. “Is that what we were doing?”

The innuendo caused Ed to flush and avert his gaze once again. Automatically his jaw set preventing him from forming any reply. Oswald seemed to take his silence as invitation to pick up their exploration and lent back down to press kisses to his exposed neck.

It would be a lie to say Ed didn’t enjoy the activity but he couldn’t relax knowing any second they could be interrupted. Adding in his fear of inadequacy had him firmly putting his hands to Oswald’s shoulders and gently pushing him back.

“Please. Not while we might be interrupted. I’ve not done this before and…” he cut himself off at his own admission and anxiously met Oswald’s curious gaze. It wasn’t wholly true. He’d experimented a bit with men – and by himself – but never to the extent that he hoped to go with Oswald. He didn’t think he could bring himself to explain that though.

Thankfully Oswald was gentleman enough to accept the decision and shifted himself off to the side, taking the opportunity to adjust himself so he could sit more comfortably.

“Of course. If it will be your first time then you’ll need to be relaxed. We can pick this up again later.”

Edward hesitated at that, wondering exactly when he was referring to. Did he mean that night when Harley was supposed to be asleep? Although he’d only paused a few seconds, it was obviously long enough for Oswald to realise the problem with his choice of words and to back track.

“I meant kissing! We don’t have to go further but you were happy with kissing, weren’t you?”

Oswald looked delightfully panicked and Edward found himself smiling as he sat himself up. Now he was close again he lent forward to emphasise his answer with the aforementioned action. He kept the touch of lips brief however.

“Yes. I was very happy with kissing. And I will want to go further. Just… maybe not tonight. We don’t need to rush things after all.”

“Absolutely,” Oswald confirmed immediately, a happy smile lighting his face. His hand reached out and then hesitated. Edward smiled softly and quickly took it in his own before Oswald could conclude the gesture was unwelcome.

It was immediately apparent that neither knew how to proceed next. The obvious thing to do would be to return downstairs to Harley but that would mean separating and obviously that didn’t appeal. Nor however did either quite know how to interact in the new overwhelming intimacy of their changed relationship. Ed didn’t even know how to classify it. Were they boyfriends now? Friends with benefits?

Oswald was fidgeting nervously as he restrained his impulse for action and Ed decided it would be safer for them both if he gave in to his own impulse to fill a silence.

“I had a thought about another security feature we could implement.”

The familiar topic was latched onto gratefully and Oswald turned to him expectantly, hand now settled around Ed’s own.

“Have you heard of nightingale floors?”

“Yes.” An excitement lit his eyes. “I saw a temple in Japan that had them.” His face fell into a frown. “It sounded like a flock of birds being drowned.”

“Well. We wouldn’t need to make it _that_ bad. But it should be easy enough to fit some jackets or clamps for the nails to rub against. I already noticed some loose boards. We could arrange it so a particular pattern makes a tune. That way you’d know if it was a friend.”

“I don’t have many of those.” He caressed his hand over the back of Ed’s. “I’d hate to accidentally lose one because of a squeaky board.”

Ed couldn’t help but smile at the gentle touch even as he focused on the new plan.

“What tune would you choose?”

That made Oswald pause and he looked thoughtful for a few seconds. Then he began whistling a song that Ed recognised immediately. After a couple of bars he joined in reciting the lyrics.

“There were angels dining at the Ritz, and a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square.” His lips quirked. “Very appropriate.”

“I thought so. But wouldn’t that be quite a big job? Removing boards. Tuning… whatever. And with your arm you couldn’t do any of that for some time.”

“I suppose not.”

His shoulders sank slightly as he reluctantly conceded the flaw in his idea. Then Oswald lent in close again.

“I guess I’ll just have to let you stay. Until all the work is done.”

The sudden proximity made Ed’s breath hitch and he automatically licked his lips.

“I might… have some other ideas for home improvements as well,” he offered hesitantly.

Oswald’s gaze was studying his for he knew not what.

“Hhmm. Sounds like you’ll be here quite a while in that case then.”

“And… you wouldn’t mind that?”

“Edward… you’re welcome to stay as long as you want.”

The hand reaching up to cup his jaw effectively silenced any response he might have made even before Oswald’s lips found his again. Despite knowing they had a guest downstairs, despite his own suggestion to take things slow, he found himself pulling Oswald back down to the mattress with him. What was the worst that could happen? Harley would walk in on them. Well, kissing Oswald was certainly worth that risk. He could only imagine what he might risk for the experience of further pleasures.

Life was doubtless about to get much more exciting for them both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you LordRobotnik for your input. It really helped with my ending.


End file.
